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Long ago and far away, particularly one fine spring morning, for it was always springtime around the cave of the Wyvern, a white owl hooted impatiently as it flew over the mouth of the Wyvern's cave.

The Wyvern woke with a start. Owls only hunted at night, and slept all through the day, so why could he hear one outside, with the sunshine making the grass outside look all bright green and shiny?

The Wyvern pushed his vast, red, horsey head out of the mouth of the cave, and looked around curiously. There was no owl to be seen now, but in the clearing stood a deer. Unlike most deer, which are woody-brown, this deer was as white as a snowflake. Puzzled, the Wyvern went off to have a closer look.

As soon as he went near, the deer leapt off into the depths of the deep dark wood, and the Wyvern rumbled along behind it, making little snuffling noises as he wriggled through the brambles and bushes.

Finally the Wyvern, as tired as could be, stopped in a clearing far away from his comfortable home, with no idea how to get home, or where the deer was, or where he was. The Wyvern was very lost, and very frightened.

Upset, the Wyvern let his head droop onto the grass, and just as he did so, he saw something smooth in the grass in front of him. At first he though it was an interesting stone, but when he looked again he saw that it was a large egg.

The Wyvern was very excited. He knew that all sorts of creatures could hatch from eggs. Birds hatch from eggs, from the little sparrow to the mighty phoenix, which lays one egg every hundred years, and in order to make it hatch must set the nest, and itself, on fire. Reptiles hatch from eggs, from the tiniest little snakes to the turtles that lay their eggs, and return to the ocean, so that the little baby turtles must find their way to the water by the light of the full moon.

The Wyvern picked up the egg carefully, so that it didn't break between his sharp teeth. He wanted to see what would hatch from the creamy white egg, and so took it home with him, without realising that as soon as he'd picked up the egg, he hadn't been lost any more.

The Wyvern looked after the egg for many days and many nights, keeping it warm by the little fire he made, and keeping it safe and snug by wrapping his coils around the delicate shell.

Then, one night, as the moon was high and full, the egg began to rattle. The sound made the Wyvern wake with a start, and watch as the egg began to shake from side to side. A big crack appeared in the middle, and then lots of smaller cracks, until finally the egg broke, and little bits of shell fell onto the floor.

The Wyvern was puzzled. There wasn't a chick, a baby reptile or even a baby monster in the egg. What there was instead, was a heart.

Not a real, squishy heart made of meat, but instead a heart-shaped ruby, with little golden wires wrapped around it. It was very beautiful indeed, and the Wyvern loved it as soon as he saw it.

The next morning, the Wyvern woke to find his new treasure still safe and sound. It didn't seem to be doing anything at the moment.

There was a knock at the entrance to the cave. Blocking out the light was a figure that, after a bit of squinting, the Wyvern made out to be an old man, with a big white beard and a walking stick made out of a twisted branch.

The Wyvern was polite, so he said, "Huloo. I'm the Wyvern. Can I help you?"

The old man looked very sad. "I've lost my treasure. I was told to look after it, but I've lost it."

"That's very sad," said the Wyvern. "If you tell me what it looks like, I might be able to find it."

"It's a heart," said the old man promptly. "It's sort of heart-shaped, but it's more a big jewel. It's sort of silvery."

The Wyvern felt his eyes narrow. There was nothing silvery about his treasure, because it was made of gold and rubies. The old man couldn't have ever seen it before, and that meant he could be trying to steal it.

"No," said the Wyvern, quite truthfully. "I haven't seen anything silvery around here, except for the farmer's cat, and she's not a treasure."

"Oh," said the old man, suddenly annoyed, "But-"

The Wyvern snorted. "I'm very busy today, so I'll bid you goodbye. Goodbye." And with that, he went and pretended to be busy at the back of the cave until he heard the old man leave.

The next morning, there was another knock at the entrance to the cave, and the old man was standing there again. This time, he had a big box at his feet, carried by two pretty girls.

"Come out, little Wyvern," said the old man, "for I have a present for you."

The Wyvern was more careful than yesterday. He knew that he shouldn't talk to strangers, and he definitely shouldn't accept presents from them. "No thank you. I'm very busy again, so-"

The old man glowered. "I know you've got it. I want that heart, and I'm not leaving here without it. Look, I've a whole boxful of gold to give you, far more money than you could sell it for. I have rings of magic that will grant your wishes, and a magic harp that plays itself, so you'd never be lonely. I will give you anything you ask, your heart's desire, if only I can have the little treasure you're keeping. You can even eat my two lovely assistants, if you like."

One of the pretty girls put her hands on her hips. "He jolly well can't eat me!"

The Wyvern bared his big pointy teeth. "I don't people, it's not very nice. And you're not very nice for saying I could. I won't take your presents, and I won't give you the heart, so go away!"

The man waved his stick. "I warn you, I'm a very powerful warlock. If I wanted, I could freeze you and your cave as cold as ice, and take the heart while you lay frozen."

"No, you can't," said the Wyvern, "not in my cave where it's always springtime. Now go away, before I change my mind about eating people." He bared his teeth, and flapped his wings, and the warlock, as well as the pretty girls, ran away, leaving the big box of presents behind.

The Wyvern was very worried for his treasure, so he went of to see his ones of his two best friends, the witch who lived in the forest.

The witch listened to his tale with concern. "Warlocks are very dangerous. They know lots of bad magic, and they never ever keep their promises. I wonder whose heart you have."

The Wyvern was puzzled. "You mean that this is someone's real heart? I thought it was just a pretty thing."

The witch shook her head. "In olden times, witches used to take their hearts out with a silver blade, and then hide them away so that nobody could find them. That way, the witch didn't die until someone found her heart. And to make sure they didn't accidentally tell people where their heart was, the person who lost their heart forgot that they'd done it. There'd just be a big purple scar."

The Wyvern tilted his head to one side. "Can you tell whose heart it is?"

"I don't know. If you pass me the shell of the egg, then I can cast a spell to find out."

So the Wyvern went home, happy. Now he knew that the heart was magic, he took extra special care of it. He polished it with a cloth, and carefully laid it on a bed of reeds, and promised it that he would never let the warlock get his hands on it.

The next morning, there was a timid knock on the front of the cave. The Wyvern went to see whom it was, fearful that the warlock had returned.

Instead, it was one of the warlock's assistants, crying in the clearing.

The Wyvern went up to her. "Hello, there. What's the matter?"

The assistant sniffled. "He sacked me! The warlock sacked me when I said I didn't want to be eaten. He says that if I want my old job back, I have to give him back all the presents he left on the floor here yesterday. Where are they?"

The Wyvern passed her a handkerchief. "There, there, dry your eyes. I put everything in my cave yesterday, to stop the rain getting on them. You can have them back, I don't want them."

"So, can I come into your cave, then?" the assistant stood up, and blew her nose.

"STOP!"

The witch ran into the clearing, and pointed a finger at the assistant. "She's trying to trick you! The warlock sent her to get the heart, but because she's evil, she can't enter your home unless you invite her."

"That's not true!" the assistant stamped her foot. "You saw how the warlock tried to feed me to you! He doesn't like me at all, and I don't like him."

The Wyvern thought, and then said, "I won't invite you into my cave, but if you can come in anyway you can take what you like."

Well, the assistant got as far as the very edge of his cave, and she stretched and strained for a good ten minutes, but she couldn't set one foot over the threshold of the cave. Furious, she pointed one finger at the witch. "I'll get you for this. You and this stupid Wyvern. I'll hurt and hurt you-"

"No, you won't," said the witch. "I've made a spell. Deep in the green forest is a stream, guarded by a healing spirit that's been there since time began. You have to empty the stream of all it's water, and only then will you be free to go."

"No!" cried the assistant. "What shall I empty the stream with, a bucket?"

"No," said the witch, "for you'd find some way to hurt the healing spirit with it, I'm sure. You can have a seashell, and you can do no harm with that. But I shall make sure you have someone to help you."

The witch threw the seashell at the assistant, who vanished, as did the warlock far away, to go and empty the stream of all its water.

The Wyvern turned to the witch. "Thank you for rescuing me. Did you find out whose heart I'm looking after?"

"Almost," said the witch. "Can I just check something?"

She peered at the red and gold scales on the Wyvern's chest, and sure enough, underneath was a purple scar.

"Wyvern," said the witch, "this heart is yours! You must have taken it out long ago, and forgotten all about it. That's why you've been looking after it so carefully. Part of you knows that its your heart after all."

The Wyvern stared at what he now knew was his heart. "What shall I do with it? Where can I keep it so that it's safe?"

The witch thought for a moment. "Hmm. Getting rid of the warlock has given me an idea."

She took the Wyvern off to the stream where the warlock and his assistant still were, and then went downstream, to where there was a pool. If the Wyvern listened carefully, he thought he could hear someone laughing, with a laugh like the tinkling of little silver bells.

"Hello," called the witch. "I know you're here, you used to heal people who dropped a coin in the pool. Would you like to do something else now?"

There was a slightly different tinkling sound.

"I thought so," said the witch. "I will put a coin in your pool, and in return I'd like you to look after the Wyvern's heart, until he comes back for it. Could you do that for me, please?"

There was another tinkling sound.

"Thank you," said the witch gratefully. "Your pool will be very useful, because magic can't touch running water. It just gets swept away. So thank you, and I hope more people remember that you're here."

This time, the sound of little silver bells was almost sad.

But people do still remember when there were healing spirits that lived in water, because even today we put coins in fountains, wherever they may be.

And so the heart of the Wyvern lay, as safe as safe could be, in the pool of the healing spirit, and has done from that day to this.

THE END.